Alone
by A Feather of Pepa
Summary: A sequel to the Wreck it Ralph Novellization. Oneshot. "It was him. It was him. It was always him. They never said his name. Just "Him". They blamed "him". But he didn't care. He was in pain. He hurt. His heart ached. His headache worsened. His soul was in agony. He hurt, he hurt… Everywhere. Everywhere hurt. Everything hurt. He was alone, and that was all he'd ever be." One shot.


Alone

_November 5th, 2012_

He awakened with a splitting headache, causing him to double back and moan, his head slamming uncomfortably into a large rock-sized mint. His skin felt like it was on fire. His eyes were bloodshot and sizzling like embers. His soul felt damaged, if he had one. It felt hurt and impaired. Like someone had cracked him open and literally put a hole in it. There were tears swimming in his eyes as the man lay in agony, his entire body screaming for rest. He was scared.

For the first time ever, a Good Guy was scared.

It sounded so… cowardly. To him. Be that as it may, he had a reason to feel fear. He was afraid of death.

He had escaped it so many times, and yet each of those times he wasn't afraid. But now he was. Why?

Was it because he knew that he was, sooner or later? Was it because he could not regenerate in this game? No… he had definitely chosen the wrong game to mess with, but now he was being punished. Karma.

And, oh man, did he hurt. It hurt a lot. One might shyly venture to call it agony. Anguish. Misery. It hurt him to think about everything he had done in his lifetime. From good to bad, from mistakes to regrets, there sure was a lot to think about. Oh woe, how he wished that he was in water. Water always calmed his nerves—besides racing. Kinda weird, because the situation of racing was ironic, but never mind that.

His heart raced when a liquorice twig snapped in the distance. What if someone saw him? His life would be on the line, like that of a deer in a car's path. The thought made his face pale, and he found himself writhing in desperate attempt to escape the inevitable. Of course, the inevitable is clearly inescapable. Oh, how he wished that he had more time, and less pain!

Sweat came in bead above his forehead as he struggled against his tormenting agony. "**ARGH.**" He hissed, dragging himself forth, away from sight and into a cotton candy bush. Then panting as his entire body throbbed with anguish, he shivered in shock and stared blankly into the soft tufts of blue and pink candy. Here, he knew that he would be safe.

Unfortunately, this is not so.

"Haha, catch me if ya can, Godzilla-man!" a small girl's laughed sounded just ten feet away from his bush. Then pained character cussed under his breath and curled into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

But there was no end. Only silence.

Then a giggle… and the girl leaped into his bush!

The Good Guy gave a gasp of pain as she landed square on him, squishing him into the cold dirt. He heard a sharp intake of air from the young child, feeling her weight immediately bounce off as she turned to look at him, but the silence resumed. He could feel the hot waves of shock bouncing off her body like a static charge. And he was scared all over again.

Without a word, he felt her presence depart (though heard her footsteps persistent and rapid) and yelling out a similar name, but he dared not make a connection, for fear of knowing that his end is closer.

He knew that they hated him. They hated him, and he was weak—surely they would take the advantage.

And that girl… she could be no more than nine years old…

Venellope.

Her name rang through his head like loud bells chanting. He'd encountered her many times, and each was not so pleasant. She was causing trouble, and he was trying to cool her down—before she got herself hurt. He should've just locked her up somewhere. Yes, that sounded more simple—but it had… less _heart_.

"What is it, Venellope?" that voice—it sounded so familiar…

"It was him—I—" the girl panicked.

He knew that there was no more to explain. It was him. It was him. It was always him. "Him" was becoming a name. They could not manage to say his authentic name, amid their knowledge of it. They just said… "Him". Say it a thousand times, and it will sound like one of the strangest words you will ever come to know. He knew it.

But he didn't care. He was in pain. He hurt. His heart ached. His headache worsened. His soul was in agony. He hurt, he hurt… Everywhere. Everywhere hurt. Everything hurt. He was alone, and that was all he'd ever be.

A soft voice broke his miserable silence, causing him to look up pathetically to the speaker. "Hiya, buddy."

His spirits lifted, as he saw no anger, no hate, just pity. Pity and an untitled emotion. Sadness? Maybe. He groaned and curled into a tighter ball. Wreck-it Ralph pursed his lips in a forlorn fashion, staring at the poor, writhing figure. He didn't care how many mistakes this character had made—he was hurting real bad, and he needed help. Felix would be of assistance.

Without hesitation, Ralph scooped up the small video game character and carried him off, knowing that the miserable shape would be in for a surprise. Venellope scampered in pursuit, staring at her adoptive father's baggage. "Are you sure we should be helping him, Daddy?" Like all the other times she called him that, Ralph's heart warmed with love. He loved the idea of being her father; she wasn't alone, then, and he would be able to tuck her in at night, play with her, and so on… The idea to both of them lit up their days.

"I'm sure, Venellope. He's been hurt, and I don't have the heart to leave him in that bush." Venellope nodded with understanding.

"Okay, but don't think that he won't go against us." She warned. Ralph looked down at his baggage with enormous brown eyes.

"I don't think he'll do that—will you?"

Geeze, as much as it ticked him off to shake his head in effort of moving in this pain, he did it anyway… that small action of his head caused him to black out.

He hurt, inside and out, and he'd never felt so alone.

* * *

_November 9th, 2012_

"Hey, wake up…"

"No." he growled and rolled over. A finger jabbed at his arms.

"I'm serious. Wake up."

He gasped when fingers found their way to his sides and began tickling him. "Venellope!" he gasped between laughs. "Stop! Stop it!" He froze.

That's when he realized… then pain was gone. Opening his eyes wildly, he stared frantically around. Where was he? Were they holding him captive? The room was dark, and there was nothing his eyes could capture, excluding a small, squirming shape by his side. "Hush, or else Ralph will hear ya." The child commanded. "I'll tell ya what ya wanna know, 'kay? You just gotta keep quiet." The last sentence was pleading and desperate, and he knew at once that he may have been in danger.

"Where am I? How am I still alive? Why isn't there anymore pain?" the more desperate he got for answers, the louder the pitch of his voice rose. Venellope slapped a hand over his mouth urgently and hushed him again.

"Whoa, you sound like a mouse." She laughed quietly. "Alrighty, alrighty. You're in the Fix-it Felix Wing. They built it out of the bricks, and they healed up after they were done playing… Although, Gene's the one who gets hurt the most." He had no idea who 'they' were, but had a faint idea that it might've been the Nicelanders. He opened his mouth, but Venellope slammed it shut again. "Hush, I ain't done." He nodded and pulled her hand away gently. "You're alive 'cause we fixed ya up."

His heart pounded rapidly in his chest. Fixed him up? What could they possibly gain from fixing HIM up? He'd done many things to make them scorn him; and yet… they… they… FIXED HIM UP. He was ready to explode, but neither of anger nor fear… it was something indescribable. "Third question shares the same answer with the second question." Venellope added impishly, grinning at him in the dark. "So… anymore?"

He was scared all over again. This feeling… it tugged at his heart strings. Fear ran through his veins. _But why?! Why was he scared?! _He had no need to be afraid! He knew where he was, what had happened, so _why_?

"You were in a coma for, like, four days." Venellope went on and on, smiling sheepishly when she recalled leaping on him.

He, however, was allowing his crying thoughts to drown her out. The pain was gone, but not internally. His soul still throbbed. His heart was still weak. He _was_ alone. And he knew, deep inside, that it _was_ all he'd ever be…

* * *

_November 11th, 2012_

He stared blankly at the grey, sullen-coloured wall, eyes trained on a tiny crack embedded within it. His heart was still heavy, and he felt his lower stomach beginning to churn.

He was sitting on a bed in the Nicelanders' building, eyes cloudy and distracted. Oh, he missed when he was happy and cheerful. He missed when he was bathed with laughter and content. Now he was trapped by obsessions of depression. He was trapped and cornered, pinned like a butterfly ensnared by a cork, and as weak as a baby bird. Shaking amid the warmth, he rolled onto his back and tucked himself back in, feeling his eyes burning with invisible tears.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and then it creaked open. Light poured in—he'd kept his windows and lights off all morning. "Hey, are you awake?" a soft whisper said, sounding much like Felix. He obediently rolled over to face the door, eyes narrowed in hostility.

"Yes." He responded.

Felix squirmed uncomfortably, fiddling with his navy blue cap. "I'm sorry if I woke you up, but breakfast is ready." He said quietly, his innocent cerulean eyes boring into the other's rich brown. "And… if you have to talk to someone, then need I remind you that there's everyone here? They'd all want to help, I'd bet." His face friendly and light, the other individual realized that Felix was taking a different approach.

Pah. Like a bunch of fake "Nice"landers would actually want to help him. Nobody wanted to help him. Nobody. They had not wanted to help Ralph when he needed it, and they certainly wouldn't help him now. He glared at Felix and rolled over, remaining silent.

"Okay…?" puzzled lightly, the Good Guy closed the door softly and headed down the hall.

He gave a sigh of relief. He was alone once again. He'd grown so used to it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, rolling onto his back and twiddling his thumbs on his stomach.

"_All those rather dreary rainclouds still bother me_." He whispered quietly. "_And I look through the camera's eye peek, and cannot see._"

It was random, but it was something. He was breaking through this chrysalis of depression and forming into a butterfly. His mother used to sing that song to him every night as a child. He couldn't remember the rest of it, though, even if he knew that it meant something. Something important. Something that mattered in a time like this.

Alone again, naturally.

He shot up in surprise when a small shape leaped onto his bed and tackled him into a hug—only to turn out as the little nine year old who was persistent on him. He lay, shocked to his very core, when she hugged the breath out of him. This was not expected. She must've snuck in when Felix opened the door.

Slowly, he relaxed and welcomed the comforting gesture. This little girl, had he been paying more attention, was compassionate. She could not and would not stand him being so limp and depressed. If one were to describe him, he looked like a lost puppy that'd been kicked too many times, and was receiving pity from a child who had experienced the same.

Venellope sat beside him. "Promise me something?" she said to him hopefully. He stared down into her large brown eyes and found himself nodding. "Don't ever think that you're on your own. It'll sure as heck feel like it, but know this: you are _never_ alone."

"Why are you telling me that? _I'm_ the one who ruined you." He objected weakly, reaching a hand to gently ruffle her hair. She smirked and shook her head.

"Because you need someone to care for you," Venellope yawned. "Ralph and Felix, and me, we all wanna help you. You're hurt, and alone… just like I was." She smiled at him, hugging him yet again, before dragging him out of this dark room and into the light of the hallway. He wandered after her, bewilderment pricking his skin.

He was not alone. A child saved him.

* * *

_November 15th, 2012_

"I'm gonna wreck you!" Ralph chortled, pouncing on a squealing-with-laughter Venellope. It was a surprisingly warm autumn night, with the fireflies of Niceland buzzing and dancing with the stars. He watched, alongside Felix and Calhoun, as Ralph and Venellope continued their affectionate play. A smile graced his lips.

"Y'know," he started, "If someone who hadn't met them looked at them now, they'd assume that Ralph was the father." Felix gave him a warm smile and nodded in agreement. Calhoun remained silent, laying in the field of heather and staring as the fire bugs danced in the warm night air. The lone individual beside Felix stared thoughtfully into the constellations, his eyes becoming rounder and rounder as he sought to take in the Human's world. "Their world is full of so much… wonder." He sighed out loud. "We're stuck here. I've no home. No place to call my own; not anymore."

A gloved hand was placed on his shoulder comfortingly. He turned to see Felix smiling at him with big cerulean eyes. "No worries there, buddy. We've adopted you."

"Yes, but the others won't. I'm not even a Good Guy anymore." He argued, his eyebrows furrowing. "And today, if my game were still plugged in, it'd be my fortieth anniversary." Felix's eyes brightened instantaneously.

"Happy birthday!"

"Yeah, thanks." He sighed and shook his head, laxly shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'd go back if I could, but…"

The Good Guy beside him nodded pitifully. "Yeah…"

Alone… No. He was no longer alone. Over the days, he had made friends and family. Venellope was his niece. Ralph and Felix were his brothers. He was not alone. He was still breaking free of these pressing chains of forlornness, but he was definitely not alone.

* * *

_December 25th, 2012…_

"I gotcha a pair of socks, Dad." Venellope smiled impishly and threw the bundle at Ralph's head. "And I got you, Felix, rust-breaking stuff, for your hammer." Felix held out his hands and caught the present with ease. He smiled up at her with warm eyes when she cheered, "Merry Christmas, you two. It's been fun." She sighed and settled down by the fireplace contentedly—Ralph joined her and placed her on his lap. The two seemed to be caught in their own conversation.

Felix looked around worriedly. _He_ _should've been up by now_, he thought. "We have one person missing." The brunette stated loudly. Wreck-it and Schweetz blinked up at him.

"I woke him up an hour ago." Venellope stated flatly. "I jumped on his bed, hollered in his ear, then he snapped and tossed me out of the room like a rag!" she smirked a little at the memory. "I like to call that revenge."

Ralph cocked a thick brown eyebrow at her. "Revenge?"

"Y'know, for everything back when I was glitchy?"

Both Felix and Ralph narrowed their eyes. "Venellope," Ralph scolded, "You're going to go upstairs and apologize. Now." Her eyes widened with disbelief.

"What?" she scoffed, "Just because you adopted me doesn't make you the boss. I'll do what I please, thank you very—" she was incapable of finishing her sentence, for the buff man tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her upstairs. "Ahhhh! Lemme go, you big monster! Leggo leggo leggo!" she pounded her tiny fists against his back, all for naught. Her energy was wasted by the time he was at the top step.

He placed her before a door and glowered down at her with thick, furrowing eyebrows. "You're going to apologize, come back out with him, and give him your present. Understood?" Venellope glared daggers at him, but said nothing to complain. Instead, she knocked haughtily on the door and waited while Ralph made his way back down.

She was met with a furious face, with yellowy brown eyes glaring down at her. "What do you want?" he snapped. Venellope's cheeks heated up instantaneously as she scrambled for words.

"W-well, I, I just thought that maybe—"

"You thought what? That it'll be a _jolly, merry_ Christmas by jumping all over me and screaming in my ear?" He spat the words 'jolly' and 'merry' with venomous scorn. His eyes were like shards of ice. "Yeah, well, I've had enough of Christmas to last a lifetime." With that, he slammed the door on her and stormed back to the window.

Shocked, the little raven haired gal stared at the door. How could he not like Christmas? _Everyone_ loved Christmas, even the Nicelanders. After a paralyzed moment of staring into space, Venellope daringly opened the door again with a soft creak. He was sitting on his bed, staring out the window, watching the shards of snow flutter from the heavens. He'd not noticed her entrance.

Slowly, she made her way across the bed and sat herself beside him. This time, he acknowledged her presence with a blink of his eyes, before wrapping an arm around her in a half-embrace. "Merry Christmas, little niece." He said half-heartedly. Venellope nodded and leaned her head into his side. His sweater smelled like rain and dew drops. She snuggled up to him closer when he sighed, "I hate Christmas."

"How come?" she inquired, eyes like two full moons. "Are you a Jehovah's Witness?" He glanced at her sharply, a grin sliding onto his face.

"No way!" he cackled, shaking his head vigorously. "It's just that… Everything happened on this day." His eyes darkened with sadness. "This supposed day of joy. Of hope. Of miracles. Of course, I had to experience it the wrong way. I lost everything on this day. I lost my fame and my fortune. My family. My friends. My game world. Everything." She closed her eyes, face hidden in his side as she tried to picture losing everything she loved.

Venellope awakened crying.

He gently rubbed her arms, whispering soft, pacifying words to soothe her. "Of course, you'd be too young to experience such a thing. That's why you're here, and crying. I just… I'm just lost. Every year, I sit alone on Christmas Eve and just… stare into the snow. I think about everything." She wiped her eyes and cuddled her head into him.

"I-I have a present for you. From all of us." She stammered. "I dunno if you want to see it, seeing as you hate Christmas, but please," she looked up at him with round, pleading eyes. "I want you to see it."

**000000**

"Oh, c'mon. Are we there yet? These blindfolds are going to kill me." He whined as Venellope dragged him through the hustling and bustling of the Game Central Station, Felix and his colleague in close pursuit. She was shimmering with excitement—in fact, so were Felix and Wreck-it. He wondered what they had in store for him as they dragged him along.

The atmosphere changed into a deadly silence. A soft wind blew… birds whistled in the distance… the roaring of race cars zoomed in the range of his hearing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up with excitement. His heart raced. "This feels so… familiar…"

Venellope giggled happily. "Alrighty, take off yer blindfolds." He did so, and when they were free, he gasped in shock and immediately dropped to his knees. His home. His world. Prairies stretched for miles, meadows of flowers flourishing along the long grass. Racetracks were embedded throughout the highlands. His eyes released tears, which streamed down his cheeks as he happily took everything in.

"My home…" he whispered shakily.

"It was rebooted a couple o' days ago. Mr. Litwak said that he wanted to bring back classics." Ralph said to him gently. "Merry Christmas." They all stood in awe for what seemed like forever, staring at the beauty of this game. Venellope finally kneeled down beside the surprised man and gave him a firm embrace.

Then, she whispered, "Welcome home, Turbo."

_Now he knew for sure that he was not alone. He had friends and family. His heart was cured, and his soul became as solid as a ball. He was forgiven and loved. Nothing could wreck him. Nothing could hurt him now._

_Because Turbo was home, with his loved ones, and that was all that mattered._


End file.
